Lewis: Peace and prosperity

We just got back from three weeks in Scotland, where we drove the famous NC500 loop around the Highlands. It’s stunning country — castles, coastlines, and sheep with more road authority than a New York cabbie.

Traveling always reminds me how much the same, and yet different, the world can be. Scotland felt like a ¾-scale model of America. The cars are smaller, there are zero pickup trucks, the hotel rooms are cozy (read: cramped), and even the doorways seem to assume the average human stopped growing in 1974. And yet, some things are universal: even in the most remote villages, every café is filled with people staring blankly at their smartphones.

That tiny moment — watching Scots scroll Instagram over tea — got me thinking about the broader topic of how we engage with the world, and why it matters.

In today’s hyperconnected digital world, we’re paradoxically more isolated than ever. Social media, while powerful, tends to bring out the worst in us. Anonymous online interactions breed snark, cruelty, and outrage. The scathing Facebook comment, the nasty tweet — these are weapons wielded with impunity from behind screens. A step up in civility might be a heated phone call or a passive-aggressive email, but even those have a distance baked in.

Face-to-face, though? That’s a different story.

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There’s something fundamentally calming about proximity. When I’m really angry with someone, I’ve learned it’s always better to meet in person. Body language, tone, the simple act of eye contact — they all work together to turn conflict into dialogue. It’s why almost every major peace negotiation in history has been done face-to-face. No one settles a war with a group text.

And yet, America seems to be flirting with a kind of willful isolationism. Not just on the global policy level, but culturally. There’s a certain pride, these days, in tuning out the wider world — of treating anything unfamiliar as suspect and anyone foreign as some kind of threat. The irony is: the less we interact with others, the more prone we are to caricature them.

I’ve traveled to more than 65 countries and logged over four million air miles. I’ve eaten some questionable street food, visited places that were far from my personal comfort zone, and met people who looked and lived nothing like me. And still, my favorite destinations have one common thread: I felt welcome.

Travel doesn’t just enrich the traveler — it’s a form of diplomacy. No, we’re not formal ambassadors, but every time we share a laugh with a stranger or navigate a foreign bus schedule with help from a local, we chip away at the wall of “otherness.” We replace assumptions with experiences.

It was once said — probably in a McDonald’s boardroom — that two countries with McDonald’s have never gone to war with each other. That’s not quite true anymore, but it captures the essence of the idea: when nations are economically, culturally, and socially intertwined, war becomes a lot less appealing. Familiarity doesn’t breed contempt — it breeds understanding.

And yet, only 48% of Americans have a passport. That means more than half the country has never left the U.S. You might assume it’s a matter of economics, but compare that to 70% in the United Kingdom and over 90% in places like Sweden and Norway.

We can do better.

Travel isn’t just a luxury; it’s a public good. When we meet each other — really meet each other — we’re reminded that most people, wherever they’re from, want the same things: security, opportunity, dignity, and maybe the occasional slice of pizza that doesn’t come frozen.

So yes, go see the castles and cliffs. But remember the real reward isn’t the photos — it’s the perspective. Peace and prosperity don’t come from building walls. They come from crossing bridges.

Mark Lewis, a Colorado native, had a long career in technology, including serving as the CEO of several tech companies. He’s now retired and writes thriller novels. Mark and his wife, Lisa, and their two Australian Shepherds — Kismet and Cowboy, reside in Edwards.